


My Rainbow-Coloured Bus

by Phnx



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phnx/pseuds/Phnx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of grey gradients, Demyx was a rainbow, from his cherry-red rain boots to the pot of gold that was his hair. College AU. Zemyx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Rainbow-Coloured Bus

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by listening to Utada Hikaru's 虹色バス [Nijiiro Basu, or Rainbow-Coloured Bus] on repeat. For like. Hours.

\--

Zexion grimaced as rain grew thicker, the freezing drops battering against the bare skin on his face and neck and sliding down his already-soaked, slate-coloured hair. His clothes, for all that they had been thick and warm only half an hour earlier, were now a sopping mess and served only to chill him further. He probably should have brought along some sort of raincoat, or at least an umbrella, but the sky had been an untainted blue when he’d left his dorm for his part-time job at a tiny bookstore tucked into a nondescript corner on the other side of the small college town.

Zexion squinted up at the sky, which was now, from what he could make out past the sheet of rain streaming through the air, a solid mass of dark grey. He shivered.

_Almost home…_

Zexion turned a street and then stopped, blinking in numb surprise. The streets had been empty of people and even of cars as Zexion trudged along, head down and hands shoved in his pockets, but in front of his dorm, a brightly-coloured figure was dancing through the puddles, twirling and splashing.

As Zexion came closer, he was able to recognize the person’s features, but he’d already had a strong suspicion as to the person’s identity. After all, who else but Demyx would prance through puddles… or wear _that_.

Zexion stopped in front of the figure, who paused in his dancing, arms still outstretched and delighted smile still in place, somehow managing to look like a snapshot of happiness rather than a frozen image stretched beyond its time. Zexion let his eyes take in the picture.

_Cherry-red rain boots… sky-blue jeans… salmon-pink t-shirt… electric-green raincoat… mulberry-purple umbrella…_

All of this, when combined with Demyx’s gelled-up blond hair, which was fighting a valiant, if ultimately futile, battle against the rain, contrived to make Demyx look like a cartoon rainbow against the dull, grey backdrop of the rainy day. 

_Maybe if he used that umbrella as more than just a dancing prop, his hair would stand a better chance._

Zexion allowed himself an amused smile until he considered just how _warm_ Demyx looked, tucked up in that raincoat and _those rain boots_ , and spared a brief scowl for his own shoes, which were soaked through.

Finally, Zexion met Demyx’s sea-green eyes, and suddenly, the cold didn’t seem like such a pressing issue anymore.

\--

Zexion and Demyx had never been close, per se, but in the face of their virtual army of mutual friends, they’d gotten to know one another, at least well enough for Demyx to drag Zexion up to his own room, attack him with towels, and dress him snugly in some of Demyx’s own, very dry, sweats.

“Demyx, I live down the hall and two floors up. You do realize that I can very easily go to my own room and wear my own clothes?”

This was just a token protest, however. Now that Zexion was tucked into this number of sweaters, wrapped in this many throw-over blankets, and positioned directly under a blasting heater, nothing could have made him move, a stance which was made all the stronger when Demyx approached holding two mugs of hot chocolate and wearing his bright smile.

“But then who would make sure you were taking care of yourself?” Demyx asked, handing the steaming cup over to Zexion and settling down beside him, cradling his own mug.

They sipped their drinks in a warm silence for a moment before Demyx spoke in a carefully casual tone. “So, I hear you’re going away on exchange.”

Zexion blinked, feeling as though the comfortable moment had been shattered. The statement was innocent enough, as Demyx couldn’t possibly know the mixed batch of feelings that were weighing Zexion down whenever he thought about that topic.

“Yes,” he said, carefully covering his emotions with a mask of calm. “Just for next term.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I told very few people. I hate having to repeat myself over and over to each new person, especially when it concerns personal information, as you surely know. I only told Luxord and Xigbar, and in doing so, I felt secure in the knowledge that within an hour, everyone in the school would have heard about it.”

“You should have told me.”

“You seem to have acquired the knowledge without that being necessary, just as I had intended.”

“I would have rather heard it from you.”

Zexion shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to where this was coming from. Demyx still appeared to be completely nonchalant in his manner and tone, but he was obviously upset, though Zexion could hardly imagine why that could be. Zexion was closest to Vexen and Lexaeus in their shared group of friends, and Zexion hadn’t told either of _them_ the news directly, either. _They_ hadn’t minded. _They_ had taken it for granted that that would be his method of passing along important information.

And since when had Zexion and Demyx been so close that they required personally-delivered life updates?

“I will keep that in mind for the future,” he said stiffly.

More silence.

Then: “Are you excited?”

Zexion shrugged. “Of course,” he answered.

Demyx’s lips twitched as he glanced side-long at Zexion. “You don’t look it.”

Zexion scowled. “Well, I am.”

“You’re nervous.”

Zexion couldn’t believe the gall Demyx had, not presenting that as a question. As though Zexion were easily readable, or prone to nervousness, or anything other than the extremely calm and collected individual that he most certainly was at all times.

“I’m fine.”

“You are. Nervous, I mean. I can tell.”

Zexion glared at him. “Well, good for you, then.” He quickly gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate, fully prepared to storm out of the room despite still being enshrouded in Demyx’s wonderfully warm clothes, but the liquid was still too hot, and it had scalded his entire mouth and all the way down his throat before he realized that that might not have been his brightest idea ever.

Around his coughing, he could hear Demyx laughing. He looked up at the blond boy through watering eyes and kicked him.

Demyx was still chortling as he set his half-full mug to the side and wrapped his arms around Zexion, gently pushing them both down onto the bed and snuggling closer.

Zexion allowed the motions, feeling somewhat uncertain. Demyx was touchy-feely—everyone knew that—and a known cuddler, but Zexion had never before been on the receiving end of any of Demyx’s more tactile expressions of affection. It felt very intimate, especially for someone like Zexion, who bore his parent’s farewell hugs and kisses in strained quasi-tolerance.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Demyx said, his warm, smiling lips moving against the sensitive skin of Zexion’s throat. “Remember when Axel left for exchange last term? He was practically shitting himself.”

“Charming,” drawled Zexion, rolling his eyes, but he allowed his lips to be tugged up into a smile as he settled his hands on Demyx’s shoulders.

“Well, you know Axel. Anyway, he had a great time.”

“Yeah.”

“And so will you.”

Zexion didn’t respond, simply letting his fingers tangle into the damp hair at the back of Demyx’s neck.

“What’s bringing you down?”

Zexion sighed. “Nothing, really. Just… going so far away. I feel unprepared. I’ve looked into every research source I can find on exchange students’ experiences, the school I’m going to, the country, people, culture, even the climate. But it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Yeah, it’s probably not.”

Zexion frowned, his fingers stilling in their soft movements in Demyx’s hair. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

Demyx laughed. “You can’t learn about this kind of stuff from a book, Zex, or there’d be no point in going, right?”

“I suppose…”

“But you’ll be fine. You’ll love it there, and… and they’ll love you, too.”

Zexion snorted and snuggled closer into Demyx’s warmth, not deigning to respond to that.

“I’m serious.” Demyx hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m happy for you and everything, but I… I have mixed feelings about you going, too.”

“Mmm?” _So warm…_ Maybe he should try this cuddling thing more often.

Demyx turned them gently so that they were nose-to-nose and raised his hand to cup the side of Zexion’s face. He leaned in, closer and closer and closer until Zexion could feel Demyx’s hot breath against his lips. Demyx’s eyes flickered down and then settled on Zexion’s, before he finally spoke. “See,” he breathed, “I don’t like the thought of you going off and meeting a bunch of pretty, exotic boys. And I really, really don’t like the idea of you getting a pretty, exotic boyfriend.”

Another perfect example of the success of Zexion’s just-tell-it-to-the-gossipers method of group-wide communication: he’d never told Demyx he was gay.

Zexion could feel himself starting to tremble again, very slightly, but this time it had nothing to do with being cold. No, he was warm now, very warm, hot even, and all of that heat was rising through him in an explosive rush that he was struggling to keep from his expression.

After all, no need to appear to be too eager.

“Oh?” he smirked, raising his arms and body in a slow stretch before settling his hands back down comfortably in Demyx’s hair. “I suppose you’ll have to find some way to impress me, then.”

Demyx smiled in a deceptively sweet manner before descending.

And by the time they were still again, now overheated and sweaty but still wrapped in one another’s arms, Zexion was _very_ impressed.

“You,” he said, yawning and poking Demyx in the chest. “You are my rainbow-coloured bus.”

Demyx laughed softly, too pleasantly exhausted to be his normal exuberant self, and too used to Zexion to be bothered by this non sequitur. “What does that mean?”

“You picked me up on a rainy day looking like you’d just been playing in pools of acrylic paint, and then you carried me off to the other side of the rainbow.” He buried his nose into the junction between Demyx’s shoulder and neck.

“Where’s your ticket?” Demyx whispered into his ear, grinning.

“’S th’ Blue-Sky Pass,” he mumbled back, shifting closer.

He was vaguely aware of Demyx sniggering somewhere off in the warm, pink cloud of contentment surrounding him as he slid off into sleep, and he resolved to get him back—later.

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> I am a dork.


End file.
